


Knock Three Times

by mentats_ghoul_herself



Series: Odessa and MacCready Sitting in a Tree [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: A little bit of violence, ADVENTURE!, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Language, MacCready's blue balls probably, Medicinal Drug Use, Oral Sex, Smut, they had sex but now they have to cover the dating phase sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6355024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mentats_ghoul_herself/pseuds/mentats_ghoul_herself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“You see these marks, Garvey?” MacCready growled, eyes furious and proud. “Each one of these marks represents a fight she wouldn't have walked away from if it hadn't been for me. There’s thirty-four, don't bother counting. Thirty-four times I've saved her. And you dare to question my motives?!"</em>
</p><p>Set two weeks after the events of Grognak Redefined, the settlers of Jamaica Plain need help recovering from a Gunner raid. Adventure ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been two weeks since Odessa and MacCready had celebrated the one-year anniversary of their meeting.

Two weeks since she had surprised him with a loot trip to Hubris Comics.

Two weeks since they had seen each other dressed up as comic book heroes and promptly had the most unexpected, heated sex of either of their lives.

Two weeks ago, on their trip back to Sanctuary, they had made an agreement - hands always touching, fingers always playing and tugging at and lacing with the others’ as they walked and laughed and shared stories - that they would attempt not to be too obvious around the other settlers, but it was proving difficult. 

For two weeks, they couldn't help but find excuses to walk past each other so that they could brush hands. Couldn't help but sit next to each other at every meal, or at the end of the day when everyone would lounge around on mismatched couches and chairs and tell stories. Preston, at least, had spied them kissing once in the mutfruit bushes, hunkered down low and giggling against each other's lips. And the new guy that had just moved over from Zimonja had mouthed an impressed “ _daaaaaaaamn!_ ” as he walked past on the other side of the street from where MacCready had Odessa pressed up against the wall of a house, both fully clothed, but mentally fucking each other judging by the love-drunk looks on their faces and the way she arched her back when he kissed her neck. 

For two weeks, Odessa and MacCready had slept in separate rooms, though they had arranged their beds so that the headboards were against the same wall. Long after sundown when they finally gave in and turned in to their respective beds for the evening, they continued to talk in hushed voices through the cracks in the broken down wall. Inevitably, Odessa would sense movement in her doorway and would turn her head to see Deacon standing there, smirking, shades on even in the middle of the night. She would loudly whisper threats his way until he saluted her lazily and slunk off, smirking to himself, and Odessa would finally signal an end to the night by knocking softly on the wall three times, to which MacCready would answer with three knocks of his own. 

For two weeks, Odessa and MacCready genuinely believed they were being insanely discreet about their relationship, and for two weeks the settlers of Sanctuary Hills allowed them to believe it.

Each morning, much earlier than MacCready would have otherwise liked, he would awake to Odessa gently squeezing his upper arm, and he would turn his face, eyes still closed, to accept a soft kiss on the lips. Together they would ghost out of the house, around to the back, and up a ladder that was permanently stationed against the roof, where they would watch the sun rise over the course of an hour, sometimes more, sitting quietly as the stars slowly faded and the sky bled from navy, to royal, to purple, then pink, at which point they would retreat back down the ladder before the first settlers awoke and wandered outside. They usually passed these mornings without exchanging a single word, MacCready content enough to share in her ritual without needing to know the why’s of it. He got it. Out here, you went into each day knowing perfectly well it might be your last, and that alone made you constantly remember everyone you had ever lost.

One morning, right as the deep violet of the night had warmed to a beautiful rose color, they saw Preston approach from down the block. Odessa growled, annoyed that he had interrupted the one bit of solitude she made for herself each day, and scooted a few inches away from MacCready, trying to perpetuate the illusion that they were just two buddies sitting on a roof watching the sun rise. Their hands found each other on the far side of the roof’s crest, out of Preston’s view, and Odessa’s eyes flitted to MacCready’s. She put on her best “I'm barely tolerating this” smile. It had been two weeks of blissful silence since one of the settlements had requested help. She knew this was coming, but she still didn't like it. 

“Trouble, Preston?” Her voice came out too chipper, trying to hide the bitterness that seethed below, but she couldn’t even care how fake she sounded. Preston was a good man and didn’t deserve her mood, but he always took it with a grain of salt. He stood in the lawn below, pretending he didn't notice how closely she and MacCready had been sitting, how their arms still draped toward each other even though he couldn't see their hands. 

“Yes ma’am. Um, sorry to bother you, but we just got word from the folks down in Jamaica Plain. The Gunner outfit over in Quincy has started to send out raiding parties.” His eyes flitted to MacCready, but his face gave away no emotion. “They've managed to drive them off once, but all the turrets are down and they’re low on ammo.”

Odessa pushed a sigh through her nose, then looked over at MacCready, who simply nodded with a crooked, encouraging grin. “Alright.” She bowed her head and squeezed her temples with her free hand, wanting to have an excuse to get out of this mission but knowing there was no way around it. “Uhhh... alright. Let us eat a quick breakfast and pack up and we’ll head out.”

Preston opened his mouth, hesitated, then decided against whatever he was going to say, and instead waited patiently as she and MacCready clambered down off the roof. He nodded apologetically as Odessa rounded the corner and passed him on her way into the house, but he stepped forward as MacCready sought to follow her. “A moment, MacCready?”

MacCready stopped, brows furrowing in confusion. “Uhh, sure, Garvey. Need me to find someone to take over my chores while we’re gone?”

“About that…” Preston began, looking about as nervous as MacCready had ever seen him. “I think you should let me go with the General on this one.” 

MacCready scoffed, unwilling to fathom that Preston would make a better partner for this job - unwilling to even consider sending Odessa off to Quincy with anyone but himself. “Actually, I think she’ll be better off with me. I know these people. I know the camp.”

“That’s what worries me, MacCready.” Preston regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but he straightened his back and set his jaw sternly. He was embarrassed at the implication, but he couldn't help but mean it, regardless.

“What are you trying to say, _Garvey_ ,” MacCready bristled, taking a step forward. He was shorter than Preston, and definitely scrawnier, but Preston still took half a step back, his grip tightening instinctively on his rifle. 

“You know perfectly well what I'm trying to say, _merc_.” Again, Preston internally balked at his own words, but he was on the defensive and too proud to backpedal, too concerned for Odessa to not want to protect her too. MacCready’s hand moved, quick and sudden, and Preston started to raise his rifle but kept himself in check. MacCready’s hand reached back and grabbed at the rifle slung over his shoulder. Before Preston even had half a moment to wonder if MacCready was _actually_ going to shoot him right then and there, MacCready had the barrel of his rifle held in front of Preston’s face, eye level so that he was staring at a line of tick marks running down the entire length of the barrel.

“You see these marks, Garvey?” MacCready growled, eyes furious and proud. “Each one of these marks represents a fight she wouldn't have walked away from if it hadn't been for me. There’s thirty-four, don't bother counting. Thirty-four times I've saved her. And you dare to fucking question my motives?! I fuck--” He lowered his voice, embarrassed for the curse and suddenly aware that he had been speaking louder and louder with every word, and he peeked over Preston’s shoulder into the doorway to make sure Odessa wasn’t hovering. “I fucking _love_ her, Garvey,” he continued in a furious whisper, too upset to worry about censoring himself. “She’s my life, and she’s gonna keep scratching these marks in my barrel because I'll be damned if anything happens to her as long as I'm alive.”

Preston stared at MacCready for several moments, his eyes searching for any sign of deceit in the sniper’s words. He knew MacCready had a thing for her, it was obvious, whether it was love or lust or something entirely different. But a little voice in Preston’s head had always questioned MacCready’s motives, even after a year of knowing the guy. Odessa operated on a cocktail of vengeance and goodwill, and MacCready operated on caps and orders, simple as that.

“Alright, you win,” Preston finally conceded with a sigh, stepping aside so that he wasn’t blocking MacCready’s path back into the house, back to Odessa. “Just… make it thirty-five marks, MacCready. Understood?”

MacCready nodded, face still set sternly, then slung his rifle back into place and disappeared into the house. He found Odessa in her room, reorganizing her travel pack and humming along to the song on the radio playing quietly in the corner.

“What was that about?” she asked without turning around, her voice skeptical, already assuming she wouldn’t like the answer.

“Umm… Garvey and I had to do a little coin-flipping just now.”

“Over what?” Looming displeasure.

“Over who was more motivated to kill a bunch of Gunners,” he lied.

Odessa turned, one brow quirked, the hint of a grin playing on her mouth. She reached out and looped her fingers slyly in the belt loops of MacCready’s duster and pulled him toward her. “As if it’s really up to either of you.” A kiss - soft, secretive, barely a whisper on his lips. She pulled away, but her mouth hovered near his, teasing. “So, who won?” 

MacCready smirked, eyeing her lips hungrily, one hand snaking up underneath her ragged button-down while the other pulled her closer to him at the waist. “You don't see Garvey in here, do ya?” She grinned like a devil, pressing her lips back against his and rolling her hips into his crotch, right where he was already starting to get hard, and MacCready’s hand ventured down across her belly, underneath her jeans, down to--

“AHEM.”

MacCready’s hands snapped back to his sides so fast his wrists popped, and Odessa side-stepped out from behind him, hands smoothing her shirt back down, looking guiltily at…

“Deacon! What the _fuck_ do you want?”

Deacon leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, one ankle hooked lazily over the other, a big fat grin on his face. He was wearing those stupid sunglasses, like always.

“Mornin’!” he greeted them, a little too cheerfully, still grinning like an idiot. Odessa and MacCready stared dumbly at him, both past the point of trying to salvage their dignity. Well… MacCready took a seat on the bed to help hide his hard-on, at least, but Deacon had already made note of it. 

“ _And?_ ” Odessa was going from embarrassed to impatient to incredulous real fast. 

Deacon showed his palms in mock surrender, chuckling as he took a step back out of the doorway. “Whoa, not a morning person, I take it.”

“Deacon! _What_ do you _want __?”_

The corner of Deacon’s mouth twitched upward, his own joke threatening to betray him. “Just seeing if I can offer you any… assistance… this morning.” He looked pointedly at MacCready’s crotch over the rims of his sunglasses, a scandalous bastard through and through. 

“ _DEACON._ ”

He dodged away, laughing as a roll of socks rocketed toward his face, but he was decent enough to leave them alone at that point. 

“I think he knows,” MacCready said wryly, palming the last of his erection back down. 

“He absolutely knows,” she sighed, slumping down next to him on the bed. She was silent for a minute before she spoke again, her voice quiet. “I'm nervous about this one, Mac.”

“Hey, so what if people know?” he chuckled, finding it a little adorable that she was so wound up over being caught by _Deacon_ , of all people. 

“No, no. No, this issue with Quincy. The turnpike was one thing, but this is _Quincy_. I wonder if I should radio for everyone at the Castle to arm up and meet us down there, or--”

“Hey hey hey,” he interrupted, pulling her with him to a stand and wrapping his arms around her until she was snug against his chest. “No one’s asking you to wipe out Quincy. All we gotta do is run some ammo and parts down to Jamaica Plain. Help them fix the turrets, pass out some new guns, maybe surprise ‘em with a few missile launchers. That’s it. Quincy can come later.”

Odessa smiled for him, still worried, but encouraged. “Yeah, you're right.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Odessa. Dess.”_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _She set her jaw firmly, hoping that maybe he’d leave her alone if she just refused to answer._  
>     
>  _“Baby. My darling.”_

After loading their packs up with as much extra ammo and weapons as they could feasibly carry comfortably, along with a few med kits and food, Odessa and MacCready shouldered their loads and headed out of Sanctuary and across the shambled bridge that arced over the river. They cut a straight path to the drive-in, skirting south of Concord and ignoring the roads. They arrived somewhere near noontime, and the settlers gladly shared their lunch while Odessa showed them the newest settlements on her Pip Boy’s map.

Bellies full, they took off again, this time walking a line to Bunker Hill. Aside from a few small groups of stingwings, the trek was completely uneventful, and they were able to talk and laugh freely without attracting any unwanted attention. It was pleasant, in the most basic of terms, though that could hardly begin to cover it. The break in Sanctuary had been the closest Odessa had come to a vacation since before the bombs fell, but somehow being out in the wilderness and sleeping in questionable shelters and shooting people in the face while she dodged the same fate was something she excelled at. She would hesitate to use the word _enjoy_ , because getting shot in the leg, or getting rushed by feral ghouls, or going hungry every so often weren’t exactly _enjoyable_ , but Odessa and MacCready were both _good_ at living out here, and there’s something undeniably thrilling about being good at something.

When they finally hit the buildings that defined the edge of what used to be Charlestown and the Bunker Hill Monument area, Odessa hesitated, her finger sliding from the guard onto the trigger of her rifle, anticipating trouble.

“What it it?” MacCready asked solemnly, coming up to her side.

“Just wondering if it’s worth trying to skirt around the outside.” MacCready nodded, eyes scanning the streets and alleys. He knew that Odessa would avoid going into a town or city if she could. Any place with buildings and gridded roadways, really. The likelihood of running into raider snipers or super mutants or a ghoul swarm was too high. But from the white obelisk’s placement, skirting the edge of town and then cutting in was likely to be just as troublesome as going down the road they were already on, if not more.

“Ugh, let’s just go straight,” she grumbled, glancing off to the side as she started forward, still waiting for something to tell her that the other way was better, but it seemed to be clear no matter which direction they took. They walked quietly off to one side of the street, near the buildings, trying to avoid loose chunks of gravel and debris where they could. They could hear a gunfight break out in the distance, but it sounded to be a mile away, and they did little but exchange cautious glances.

About three blocks in, MacCready made a hissing sound that was most likely the beginning of the word _sshhhit!_ , and Odessa was pulled down roughly by the straps of her leather armor into a twiggy bush. She turned, opening her mouth to ask what he had seen, when a bullet whistled past her arm and went right into MacCready’s bicep. Their eyes locked on each other’s, wide with shock, but then Odessa slipped immediately into some sort of disassociated battle calm and fluidly raised her rifle and wheeled around, side-stepping left, closer to the building they had been about to pass. She heard another bullet knick her shoulder piece, followed by the jeering laugh of a Raider. He had given himself away with that little taunt, hiding behind nothing more than a lamp post, and Odessa had him in in her sights and dead on the ground within seconds. After a quick scout of the rest of the building’s facade to verify there were no others, she swiveled around to rush back to MacCready, but he was already right behind her and he caught her by the shoulders before she was even fully turned around.

“Ohshit, Mac, are you okay?” she gasped. MacCready grimaced where she had blindly grasped his arm near the fresh wound. “God, I am _so sorry,_ love, I--”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said through gritted teeth, but then he froze and mentally backtracked a few seconds, and Odessa immediately knew he had caught her flub, and her brain screamed curses at her for the slip. MacCready stared at her like she had just dropped the most profound secret of her life (she had a history of those). “Did you just… did you just call me _love_ ?” His face was still twisted into something one would classify as “this bullet wound sucks a _lot_ and I would like to see a doctor now,” but there was some sort of dumbfounded overlay to it now.

Odessa immediately crouched and busied herself with her pack, skirting the question by digging for a med kit. “I, uhhhh… did I? Haha… ha.” Her cheeks were turning an obvious shade of soft red as she furiously shoved food packaging and ammo boxes aside to finally unearth a pack of syringes. She pulled one out and plunged it into MacCready’s arm without any sort of warning, and he complained with a loud, “HEY! Ouch, Dess, _geez,”_ but he couldn't be mad at her because he was still trying to get her to admit that she had just called him _love_ . That was usually something someone said when they _loved_ a person, and while everyone else knew that Odessa and MacCready loved each other, they had yet to say the words out loud to each other.

“All better? Alright let’s go,” Odessa rushed, pressing a rag into his hand, then zipping up her pack and slinging it back over her shoulder. “Bunker Hill’s right there. Look, you can see someone climbing the stairs inside the monument.”

MacCready half expected her to make a run for it - he could tell that’s how badly she wanted to avoid having to admit her slip of the tongue - but she waited patiently for him to gather himself and his gear before she started forward. He kept staring at her as they walked, trying to force her to look at him, and of _course_ she saw what he was doing out of the corner of her eye, and of _course_ she felt bad for jabbing him with a needle and then giving him a rag instead of bandaging him properly, but she hadn't meant to call him ‘love’ and was terrified she had just crossed some invisible line they weren't ready for.

“Odessa. Dess.”

She set her jaw firmly, hoping that maybe he’d leave her alone if she just refused to answer.

“Baby. My darling.”

Odessa erupted into a short fit of raucous laughter, forgetting for a moment that they weren't exactly in a safe place, but MacCready didn't stop her. He grinned instead, goofy and lopsided, happy to elicit such a reaction from her, and she gently careened into him for a fake body-check. He caught her with his good arm before she could make contact, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling her close to his side as they continued to walk. The monument loomed tall above them now, and they were within a block of the front gate.

“Are you okay?” she finally asked, her tone serious. She slid her arm around his waist, offering him some extra support even though he wasn't struggling to walk.

“Someone should probably fish the bullet out, which will suck, but I'll live.” He kissed her on the head and squeezed her shoulder, then added mischievously, “...darlin’.”

“Ohmygod, MacCready, can you not?” She tried to shy away, but he just pulled her back to him with a low chuckle.

“Dess. Come on. We’ve had sex in superhero costumes. All this…” He flapped his hand in the air, signaling at the proverbial _this_ that supposedly floated around them. “It’s whatever! Don't worry about it so much!”

“I knowwwww,” Odessa groaned. “It’s just weird, and I didn't mean to say it.” They passed through the front gate and continued toward the back, toward Joe Savoldi’s bar. Odessa had never seen a true medic at the caravan post before, but Joe was the closest thing to a friend she had there, and she knew he could point her in the right direction.

“Sorry, ma’am, no medics in camp today.” Joe eyed MacCready’s blood-stained sleeve, an apologetic frown on his face. “But I can probably scrounge up some supplies to help you out, if you want.”

“Yeah, that’d be super helpful, Joe, thank you. You have an open room?” She fished ten caps out of her pocket and laid them on the counter in front of him without waiting for an answer, and beckoned MacCready to follow her up the wood ladder to the row of single-room shacks above the bar. “Just send them up when you’ve got them,” she called back to him. “I'll need tweezers, and a needle and thread if you can find them. I’ve got the rest.”

Odessa dumped her pack on the floor of the first unoccupied room she came across and started digging out her med kits, while MacCready leaned his rifle against the wall, shrugged off his duster and green button-down with lots of hissing and wincing, and sat down on the dirty mattress on the floor. Odessa settled down next to him, rags, water, a bottle of vodka, Med-X, Jet, and another stimpack tumbling from her arms onto the floor. MacCready rolled the sleeve of his dirty undershirt up over his shoulder as Odessa laid everything out and started dabbing at the wound with a damp rag.

“So did you mean it?” MacCready asked, watching her face instead of her hands at his arm.

“Did I mean what?” she countered, her voice slightly vacant as she continued to work. She poured a capful of vodka onto a new rag and dabbed at the exposed meat of his arm. MacCready growled, eyes clenched, balled fist punching the thin mattress until the sting subsided. “Sorryyy…” she apologized with a sympathetic grimace.

He shook his head impatiently, tired of the distractions from the conversation he was trying to have with her. “Earlier. You said you didn't mean to say it. But now that you _have_ said it, do you mean it?”

Odessa stopped everything she was doing, arms slowly drifting down to rest on his forearm. Her opened just a little, and MacCready could tell she was trying to put something into words that she wasn't ready for. ‘ _Oh god, this is it_ ,’ MacCready thought, his heart starting to pound. _‘She’s gonna send you home. Send you away. Make you stay here while she goes on ahead and never comes back. You pushed her too hard, man. She still loves her husband too much. She still listens to that holotape he left her. I shouldn't have pushed this, oh god…'_

“Mac, I…” Odessa faltered, her eyes starting to burn with tears. Why was she crying _now_ , dammit? This wasn't a thing to cry about. “I don't think you...”

 _‘I don't think you and I should travel together anymore,’_ he finished for her mentally, his heart already sinking into his stomach.

“Excuse me, hope I'm not interrupting anything.” How neither of them failed to hear Joe’s heavy-footed steps coming to their door was a question of the year, but both MacCready and Odessa jumped and turned to face him with _the_ most emotional faces Joe would swear he had ever seen on any living person. “I feel ya, buddy,” he said to MacCready, handing off a parcel of items to Odessa and ducking back out of the room with an awkward nod. Odessa and MacCready turned to each other, both still shellshocked.

“‘ _I don't think you’_ what?” he said slowly, the words ghosting out of his mouth before he could stop them. Odessa’s grip tightened on his forearm just the tiniest bit, and he could tell she wasn't ready to say it, but he had forced her into it, and he had never regretted something so much.

“Mac…” Her eyes were downcast. Nervous. Looking anywhere but at him. “I don't think you understand how warm my heart gets when I see you. Or smell you. Or hear you. Or _think_ of you.” Her words were slow, hushed… shy, but wearing the armor of the brave. She blinked and a tear dropped from her eye into her lap. “I can't even begin to describe how much I love you.” She buried her face in her hands, embarrassed, afraid MacCready wasn't ready for this yet, that she had just weirded him out to the point of catastrophe.

MacCready’s hands reached for hers, pulling them away from her face, and for a heartbreaking moment she thought he was about to shake her hand, wish her luck, and head on out. But MacCready loved Odessa too, and he brought both her hands up to his lips and kissed them gently on the knuckles, first one then the other. She smiled wide, laughing out the sob she had been holding in.

“I love you too, darlin’,” MacCready rumbled happily against her hands, still at his lips. He kissed them again, then squeezed before he let go of her.

Odessa, eyes still wet, smile on her face, wiped her tears off with her sleeves and picked up the surgical tweezers Joe had left for her, squeezing the pincers together a few times with a little _click-click_ to test the tension. “I’m real glad we got that settled _before_ I dig this bullet out of your arm. You want some Jet to take the edge off?”

“Nah,” MacCready drawled, a lazy grin on his face. “Don’t need it with you around.”

“You really know how to charm a girl, hmm?” she teased, scooting closer until her folded legs were pressed up against his. MacCready smirked a little, trying to formulate how to turn their close contact into a flirting opportunity despite what was about to happen. Odessa held his arm at the elbow and positioned it toward her a bit, her face hovering inches from the bullet hole in his arm.

“Only the ones that dig bullets out of mySHIT, _hey_!”

“Duncan,” she said flatly, calling him out on his curse. “And quit jerking around, you’ll just make it hurt more.”

MacCready’s jaw jutted forward and he puffed a frustrated sigh out of his nostrils. “That offer on the Jet still stand, then?” Odessa huffed a little laugh and picked the little red inhaler up from the pile of supplies at her side. MacCready took it from her hand, hesitated, put it to his mouth, and hesitated again. “This stuff never lasts long enough. Just dig in and get it out quick before it wears off, alright?”

Odessa winked, MacCready nodded, put the red inhaler to his mouth, pushed down on the canister with his thumb, inhaled deep, and watched the world go hazy and bright. He saw Odessa, but didn’t register what she was doing. He felt the tweezers dig into his arm, but the pain was layered under something - almost like he was remembering the pain from a few days ago, but he hadn’t been shot a few days ago, he had been shot half an hour ago. Right? Or was it last week? Odessa was talking to him, smiling, threading a needle, biting her bottom lip, looking up at him through dark eyelashes, taking.... wait, _what_? Why was she taking off her shirt? Why… why was she edging toward him on her knees? When did her shirt disappear?

 _'Oh god,’_ he heard himself say.

 _‘You did good,’_ she answered. _‘Lay down and get some rest,’_ she encouraged, following him down onto the mattress. She lifted one leg over his body so that she straddled him, and MacCready’s hands floated to her hips, asking her, guiding her forward and back, forward and back over his hardening cock. His breathing picked up, his eyes flittering closed in the beginnings of ecstasy as the world around him went from over-saturated to a sea of white stars behind his eyelids, and she whispered _‘I love you,’_ in his ear. He looked up at her, and all her clothes were gone now, as well as his, She was playing with her own breasts, mouth agape as she pinched and pulled at her own nipples, the rocking of her hips growing needier. 

 _‘Oh god, Dess,’_ he groaned, and she rewarded him by lifting up, wrapping her fingers around the base of his erection, then sliding down on top of him as if they had done this an hour ago as opposed to two weeks ago. His hips thrust up into her impatiently, and she moaned the lowest, lustiest sound he had ever heard come from her lips. _‘I love you too,’_ he breathed, crooking his legs so that she slid forward onto him, letting him stretch her deeper. Time slowed even more as Odessa reacted, a moan dripping like honey from between her lips, one hand reaching down, down, down, until she found her own pleasure. Odessa’s hips were urging him to thrust faster, harder, and the palms of her hands were on his chest to steady herself against how insatiably hard he was driving into her. MacCready was sure people could hear him downstairs, next door, down at the vendor stalls, out onto the street, across the universe. But no one was there telling them to be quiet, to be decent and take it down to Goodneighbor where they had doors but honestly couldn’t care either way, regardless. Odessa’s arms reached up behind her head to lift the hair off the back of her neck, and her sultry steel-gray eyes found his in the darkness and held him there, making him forget all the bad in the world, and he felt himself close to orgasm already. There was movement in the doorway, something white, and MacCready looked up with absolute horror to see Deacon standing in the doorway, shades on, grinning from ear to ear, giving MacCready a hearty thumb’s up.

MacCready bolted upright, shouting, “Deacon _, what the hell,_ you hopeless dick!”

Odessa was at his side in a second, shushing him, holding him gently by the shoulders to keep him from launching out of the front door and down two stories to the ground. “Mac! Hey, it’s okay! It’s okay. It’s just me.”

The look of incredulity on MacCready’s face was worthy of portraiture. It was still daylight outside, though just barely. He still had his clothes on, and so did Odessa. Deacon was nowhere in sight, and his arm _hurt._

“Were you…” Odessa started, trying to form her words in a way that would make her less likely to laugh. “Were you having a dream about Deacon?” MacCready turned to look at her, his face the very definition of confusion, and he followed her eyes down to his crotch, and the very erect bulge straining at his pants.

“What the--” he blurted loudly, hand flying to his crotch to push the damn thing away. “No, I -- what? No! _We_ were just having sex, were we not?!” Odessa’s face brightened in absolute amused shock, her mouth opened in a wordless O, her brows arched high.

“God, I wish!” Odessa laughed, reaching forward to give MacCready a sympathetic hug and kiss on the cheek. “No, Mac - ohmygod, this is too much. You’ve been out for the past hour. Where did you _go_ , space cadet?”

“I was right _here_ ,” he insisted, still struggling to comprehend the division between dream and reality - struggling to understand that there actually _had_ been a part that was nothing but his rancid imagination. “We were… after I took that hit of Jet, you sewed me up real quick, I think, and then your shirt was off and you were all over me.”

Odessa stared - simply _stared_ at MacCready as she absorbed everything. “Mac. After the Jet, I barely touched you and you were nearly crying for me to stop. I let you breathe in some ether that Joe brought in with this other stuff - I haven’t seen any since before the vault, I’m going to have to try to find some more - and then you were _gone_. Like you fell asleep sitting up, I think.”

MacCready’s face had gone from confused, to nearly angry, to something nearing on defeated acceptance. “I… I don’t remember the ether. I don’t even remember closing my eyes. I just remember you.”

“And Deacon,” she added helpfully, smiling slyly. “You hungry? Let’s go get some food downstairs. Joe said he’s got brahmin steaks on the menu tonight. You look like you could use some red meat.” Odessa stood and held out her hand to MacCready. He looked at her for a bit, face blank save for a hint of exhausted confusion, then hesitantly accepted her help getting to his feet.

“So,” she started, her lips still set into a mischievous grin. “How was I?”

“Not as good as Deacon,” he joked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And to think I almost published this chapter back before MacCready took that hit of Jet. Two pages of extra smut has never flown faster from these fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What is it, Odessa?” His voice was flat, void of any emotion that might betray how scared he was._
> 
>  
> 
> _“ I just…” she started, hunting for the right words to convey the hesitation she felt. “What if it comes to trading gunfire? Your arm’s still hurt from Bunker Hill. I can’t handle these guys on my own, Mac, I--”_
> 
> _“You don’t have to handle them, Dess. This is some Railroad spy stuff we’re gonna pull, okay? In and out, cover of darkness, no one sees us come, no one sees us go. Look, if you want me to go look for a bad wig and some sunglasses, I’ll ankle-roll my jeans and call you 'my dude' or whatever else crap Deacon says. Would that make this easier?”_  
>   
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>  Odessa and MacCready arrive at Jamaica Plain and lay out a plan for helping the settlement get back on its feet.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever and it's not even that great of a chapter! I'm so sorry, I kept getting stuck trying to get these two where I needed them, so they just ended up talking A LOT. This chapter's mostly a big setup for what's coming up next: Sneaking! Sex! Adventure! Manual labor!

They departed early the next morning with a trader caravan and its guards. If there were any raiders on the road, they gave the troop a wide berth - a Brahmin and its lone provisioner were an easy target, but a Brahmin and its provisioner along with two fully armored guards, a sniper with a reputation, and the General of the Minutemen was a traveling death wish.

When they finally made it to the run-down village, they were greeted on the road by nearly the entire population, each one offering some sort of accommodation to them. _‘Can I take your pack?’, ‘Do y’all need anything to eat or drink?’, ‘I’m a doctor, are you hurt at all?’, ‘We have beds set up for you if you want to rest._ ’

Though they were both in foul moods from the humidity and incessant insect swarms, Odessa and MacCready couldn’t be grumpy at those people if they tried. They gratefully accepted all the food and water and pats on the back that were given to them, together the double-sun of a little galaxy of thankful settlers. The crowd eventually dispersed, leaving one man behind to detail all the help they were requesting.

“So we’ve got six turrets down, a busted generator, and two walls that need patching?” Odessa recounted. “We can manage all that. And we brought plenty of ammo and some upgraded weapons to help everyone out.”

The settler, Byron, smiled nervously, thankful for their help but utterly terrified at this point of losing his life, and the lives of everyone in the settlement, and the settlement itself. It would be the first failure on record for the re-established Minutemen, after they had poured so many resources into building and establishing and maintaining the town.

“It’s going to be okay, Byron,” Odessa soothed, recognizing the anxiety hard-wired into his face. “We’ll get all this fixed up tomorrow. If they come back tonight, you know MacCready’s gun is worth six by Commonwealth standards.”

“Seven and a half, actually. And hers is worth at least three,” MacCready added, trying to get Byron to lighten up. Odessa grinned and slapped at his leg, but kept her attention on the settler.

“See? It’s going to be okay. Mac and I will head down toward Quincy tomorrow night and lay some mines so you can at least have a leg up if they decide to head back down this way. I’d offer to go tonight but I think we’re both just shy of being exhausted.”

“Nonono, please rest up tonight,” Byron said hurriedly, ashamed that they had come all this way and _still_ hinted that they had considered doing more. “There’s still two mattresses in the bus out front from last time you were down, if that’s okay. We wired some of those string lights inside for you, too - the ones you liked so much from when we built the bar and patio several months ago.”

"You and your folks are always so kind, Byron. I’m glad you didn’t lose anyone in the raid.” Odessa stood, followed by the two men, and she gave the settler a quick hug before they parted for the evening.

“You’re the kind one, ma’am,” Byron said after her. “We always appreciate everything you and the Minutemen do for us.” He nodded to MacCready, signaling that he included the merc in the sentiment, and Mac tapped the brim of his hat in thanks as he followed Odessa toward the old bus. He fell into step beside her, hooking his pinky finger around her own and giving it a little squeeze.

“Piece of cake, right?” he murmured encouragingly. Odessa’s mouth crooked into a quick, forced smile before fading away back to nothing. She was worried. Tired. She shared Byron’s fear of failure - of letting down all the people who had recently come to look up to you.

“Hey, c’mon. Stop for a sec.” MacCready swung out in front of her and caught her in a tight hug, his chin resting on the top of her head. Odessa’s arms swept up and around him automatically, and she turned her head to the side and simply allowed herself to be hugged in the middle of Jamaica Plain, in plain sight of all of its fourteen residents.

“Listen.” His voice was hushed, with a deeper rumble than when he spoke out loud. “Tomorrow, I’ve got the turrets. You help Byron with the walls. Then when it’s dark we’ll head to this empty warehouse south of Neponset Park and scout that side of their camp. It’s close to the overpass but not so close that anyone will see us if we’re not careful.”

He paused and pulled away from her a bit, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. His thumbs brushed her cheekbones in gentle sweeps, one brow cocked in response to her expression. Odessa still had that blank, faraway look on her face, and for one terrifying heartbeat MacCready wondered if she shared Preston’s misgivings that he would, for some reason, go back to the Gunners.

“What is it, Odessa?” His voice was flat, void of any emotion that might betray how scared he was.

“I just…” she started, hunting for the right words to convey the hesitation she felt. “What if it comes to trading gunfire? Your arm’s still hurt from Bunker Hill. I can’t handle these guys on my own, Mac, I--”

“You don’t _have_ to handle them, Dess. This is some Railroad spy stuff we’re gonna pull, okay? In and out, cover of darkness, no one sees us come, no one sees us go. Look, if you want me to go look for a bad wig and some sunglasses, I’ll ankle-roll my jeans and call you _my dude_ or whatever else crap Deacon says. Would that make this easier?”

Odessa cracked a genuine grin and barked out a joyous cackle. “Can I call you MacDeacon?”

“Only if you let me hit on you like Deacon does,” he retorted, his tone somewhere between wry and amused.

“He does _not_ hit on me!” she gasped, both shocked and a little bit flattered. If she had ever considered Deacon flirtatious, she had brushed it off considering he kind of talked to everyone the same way: Glory. Preston. Hancock. Cait.

“Oh please!” MacCready scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why do you think he wears those sunglasses all the time? It’s so he can eyeball your ass without anyone noticing. Makes me wanna punch ‘em right off his face.”

“You and I both noticed him eyeballing your hard-on the other morning, bub, so you be careful where you’re pointing that finger.” Odessa looked down pointedly at MacCready’s crotch, then back to his astonished face, and winked. MacCready was at a loss for words, and simply frowned and shook his head, not willing to admit that he, too, was a little bit flattered. “Don’t lie, you like it,” she teased, ducking into the bus. “You sleeping with me, or do you wanna pretend to spoon Deacon over on the other mattress?”

“Cut it out!” MacCready complained, following her inside. The bus was much… cuter inside than last time they were there. Not only had they strung lights inside, but there were now an assortment of old pictures and paintings hung in the windows, a pillow and blanket on each mattress, a radio, and a crate of packaged pre-war food near the driver’s seat.

“Wow, they _really_ like you, Dess.”

“It’s freakin’ adorable, isn’t it?” she beamed, finding a switch for the lights and flicking them off and then back on again. “I wish I had a setup like this at every settlement.”

“Add some doors and black out the windows and I might be on board,” he agreed, setting his pack and gun down on the old vinyl seat.

“Aw, c’mon, Mac. Where’s your sense of voyeuristic adventure?” Odessa sat down on one of the mattresses and untied her boots, massaging her arches once they were off.

“Hanging out in Deacon’s back pocket, probably,” he scoffed, throwing his hat on top of his pack and then taming his hair down with a grimy hand. “I’ll make sure to ask for it back the next time I see him.”

“C’mere, take a load off,” she beckoned, scooting to one side to make room for him. MacCready, exhausted, opted to lay down next to her on his back, folding his hands behind his head and staring blankly at the ceiling of the bus.

“What’s on your mind, Robert?”

MacCready quirked a brow, and his heart skipped an anxious beat. _Robert._ She very rarely called him that - saving it for special occassions where she demanded his absolute attention and honesty. He could see the challenge in her eyes for him to lie or joke his way out, and he didn’t dare.

“I just…” he faltered, averting his gaze as he tried to come to terms with his hesitation. A year ago this conversation would have pissed him off to the point of blowing the whole thing off, but he had learned to trust Odessa. She had a way of getting words out of MacCready that most others didn’t. “I just need to know if you trust me. Preston wanted to come with you because he thought I might actually sell out and turn you in to the Gunners. You two seem to think on similar wavelengths, and I don’t want you to think that of me.” He looked back at her finally, his face painted a mixture of frustration, fear, and hesitation.

Odessa glared at him, and for a few tense seconds MacCready was sure she was going to slap him, but instead she laid down on her stomach next to him, propping herself up on her elbows so she could look him in the face.

“Robert MacCready, I’ve trusted you since the day I met you - I had to, I had no other choice. But you’ve never given me a reason not to, either. If you really were the kind of guy to pull a dick move like ransom me to the Gunners, you would’ve done it on the overpass with Winlock and Barnes. But you didn’t, and I didn’t even have to _think_ that you would. Preston’s problem is that he never got his revenge for Quincy. This would’ve been the perfect opportunity for him, but I chose you instead.”

“Why didn’t you bring him, then?” MacCready asked solemnly. “You could’ve radio’d the Castle like you said - got a whole posse out here to take ‘em out. I got my closure. He deserves his.”

Odessa shook her head and shifted forward to lay her head on his chest. MacCready’s arms draped comfortably across her back and he lifted his head to take a deep breath of her hair. It smelled of dirt and the wind a little bit like the sea, all traces of soap long since faded. MacCready liked it. It smelled like the time they had spent together, if it could be defined so simply.

“Preston’s too emotional,” she answered. “He’d get himself killed if I let him loose in Quincy. Being a Minuteman was his dream, and the Gunners killed it.”

“Yeah, but you’ve revived it,” MacCready protested. “Doesn’t he see that? The Minutemen are greater now than they were before the massacre. I mean, the Gunners need to be dealt with, regardless, but why is he determined to do it himself?”

“He was betrayed,” she answered sadly, mindlessly tracing the edge of his duster’s lapel with her index finger. “One of the Minutemen turned on the whole community and sided with the Gunners during the massacre.”

MacCready tightened his arms around her, but said nothing. He was thinking back to when he was stationed in Quincy, wondering if the same people he knew then were still there now. He wanted so badly to end them all, just like he had ended Winlock’s group at the turnpike. But his injured arm was still too weak to support his gun for very long, and the Quincy group was at least three times the size of the turnpike’s.

“It’s getting late. Let’s get some rest,” he finally mumbled, looking down at the top of Odessa’s head. Her hand had stopped tracing the lines of his jacket at some point, and her breathing was deep and even. MacCready puffed a little laugh out of his nose and let his head fall back down on the mattress, one side of his mouth curling up in a grin he couldn’t suppress. Even knowing that the next night would be risky, when they snuck up on the outskirts of Quincy, he couldn’t give two damns about any of it just then.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Smoke trailed white against the dark sky from MacCready’s cigarette, and he kept his pinky hooked loosely in hers as they walked along. His eyes were trained on the path ahead, but Odessa noticed him glance upwards every so often, and she wondered if he ever stood outside Little Lamplight when he was younger just to watch the stars. She wondered if Lucy quizzed him on the different constellations, or if they picked a star out for Duncan when he was born. She wondered how much MacCready thought of his family, of what could have been if Lucy hadn’t died._
> 
> The adventure continues! Something sexy happens! Will these poor lovebirds get interrupted yet again?

MacCready awoke the next morning to the smell of cooked meat and something sweet that he  couldn’t quite pinpoint. He sat up groggily and rubbed the blurriness out of his eyes with the knuckle of his thumb as his brain fought to remember where the heck he was.

“You get enough sleep?” Odessa’s voice was quiet but clear, and MacCready squinted up at her and nodded. The sky outside was overcast, and the light of the coming sunrise was muffled to a cool blue color that made him want to throw a blanket over his head and go back to sleep for a few more hours.

“Yeah, enough,” he echoed, his voice gruff. “What are you… is that steak?” He rubbed his face roughly with both hands, trying to banish his blurry vision and invigorate himself into a more wakeful state.

“Byron said we needed the protein boost,” Odessa answered, offering him a glass of dark purple liquid. “And someone figured out how to make juice out of mutfruit and melons. Not half bad.”

MacCready accepted the cup and took a tentative sip, letting it sit on his tongue for a second before swallowing. It was the slightest touch bitter, but mostly sweet and actually really nice. “Tarberries too,” he added, downing half the glass in two big gulps as Odessa settled down beside him. She sat with her back propped against the bus seats, laying one plate at her side and the other in MacCready’s lap. He brought one hand up to pat her thigh and give it an affectionate squeeze, and she answered by leaning over and placing a kiss on his cheek. It was cutely domestic of them, both sitting side-by-side, eating radstag steaks for breakfast, sharing unspoken good morning greetings and minimal conversation. 

Ast as they were both finishing up, Byron stopped outside the bus’s entrance and knocked on the metal door frame before poking his head in. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m ready to get to work if y’all are.”

“Sure thing, Byron. We’ll be right there,” Odessa answered kindly, throwing MacCready a little smile before getting up and taking his empty plate and glass along with her own and following Byron to the main house.

The day passed quickly. Odessa and Byron finished patching the burnt-down walls after just a few hours and helped MacCready power through the rest of the turret repairs. Everything was back to working order by sundown, and one of the settlers had a dinner of Mirelurk cakes and crude homemade razorgrain bread ready for them when they were done. Odessa and MacCready sat with Byron as they ate, drawing invisible maps on the old wood picnic table, plotting out the details of that evening’s recon mission together.

“So we’ll camp out at the abandoned warehouse southeast of Neponset Park,” MacCready detailed, placing a bullet on the table to act as a marker for the building. “The overpass is here, and then the road out of Quincy runs over this way.” He drew a little arch off to the side of the bullet, and Odessa and Byron nodded their understanding. “We’ll wait in the warehouse for the overnight shift change. We can sneak off to the road and set the mines while they’re distracted, but they shouldn’t see us over there anyway.”

“Are you  _ sure _ you don't want us to radio the Castle for backup?” Byron inquired nervously. 

“No, we’ll be fine.” Odessa answered a little more flatly than she meant to, her nerves already on edge despite MacCready’s continual reassurances. He watched her for a moment, taking in the almost-panicked look in her eyes as she stared at the bullet on the table. MacCready reached underneath and knocked his knuckles against the wood three times, capturing her attention. His mouth spread into a crooked, reassuring grin, and Odessa finally relaxed and knocked her answer back with three little taps.

“Ain’t no thing but a radroach wing,” MacCready drawled with a wink, trying to imitate Deacon’s weird husky speech style. Odessa grinned wide, and her anxiety finally faded away with a deep inhale and exhale of breath. “C’mon, Dess. Let’s go hang out in an empty warehouse for a little bit. We’ll probably be back by midnight, Byron. Don’t wait up for us. We’ll let you know how it went in the morning.”

Odessa was thankful that MacCready knew when to take the lead from her - she had opted against speaking much for fear of Byron hearing the hesitation in her voice, but MacCready diverted the settler’s attention from her with ease, and Byron couldn’t help but smile and shake Mac’s hand with well wishes to them both as they parted for the evening.

The pair packed lightly. Odessa insisted on keeping her leather armor on, but MacCready talked her down from wanting to bring four guns, just for herself, to picking out one. Aside from their gear, the only thing they carried was a beat-up canvas sack containing five landmines, a can of water, and two stimpacks (just in case). When they finally set out from Jamaica Plain, it was fully night time. All traces of the setting sun were gone, and the stars were shining in full force. The moon was barely a sliver, which MacCready pointed out as he threw an arm around Odessa’s shoulders and squeezed her tight. They could be nothing but shadows that night, as long as they were quiet and careful.

The walk through Neponset Park on through to the empty warehouse was as uneventful as the rest of their trip had been so far, leaving a peaceful, albeit soggy, stroll for Odessa and MacCready to enjoy. Odessa watched the sky nearly the entire time, still marveling at how many stars she could see compared to before the bombs. Smoke trailed white against the dark sky from MacCready’s cigarette, and he kept his pinky hooked loosely in hers as they walked along. His eyes were trained on the path ahead, but Odessa noticed him glance upwards every so often, and she wondered if he ever stood outside Little Lamplight when he was younger just to watch the stars. She wondered if Lucy quizzed him on the different constellations, or if they picked a star out for Duncan when he was born. She wondered how much MacCready thought of his family, of what could have been if Lucy hadn’t died. She had stopped wondering about her husband and their what-if life months ago, and though something told her it was inappropriate not to miss Declan, she couldn’t deny that she was happy without him, but only because MacCready had so easily filled that hole in her heart.

The warehouse stood alone on a small hill about a half mile from the overpass. Odessa could see the light of lanterns and spotlight shift as people milled about, but she was comfortable with the distance between her and them. Once inside the empty building - not much more than mangled metal walls set two stories high over a concrete slab - Odessa stripped her boots and socks off and threw them into the middle of the room. MacCready raised a brow as he set his rifle and the sack of mines down in a corner, then whistled low as Odessa pulled her hair up off the back of her neck.

“The hell are you whistling at, my socks got wet and it’s muggy as a brahmin’s ballsack out there.” Her tone was grumpy, but she was pleased at the positive attention, and MacCready could see her lips curl upward as she turned coyly away from him.

“You know I get all hot and bothered when you show me your ankles like that, baby,” he crooned playfully at her, sidling up behind her and letting his hands run from her hips, forward to her stomach, and just enough down her pants to make her gasp. He only meant it as a joke, but he couldn’t help the rush of blood that flowed to his groin at the contact, couldn’t help the way his breathing was suddenly heavy in her ear. Odessa turned to face him, her eyes locked on his, her lips parted in heated anticipation. Jesus, she had only wanted to air her feet out for a couple of minutes.

“You never told me about your dream the other evening at Bunker Hill.” Her voice was low as her hands crept up under his duster, her breathing already excited even though they had hardly done anything yet. But they would, and she damn well knew it. Still, she was tentative, as if afraid this opportunity would be ripped away from them like it had the past five times they’d tried. But they were away from all the interruptions - all the settlers, all the radios, all the emergencies, and most importantly away from Deacon.

“Oh, you wanna know about that, huh?” MacCready smirked. He backed away from her, but his hands found hers and he led her back a few steps until his back was against the wall. It was dark inside the ramshackle building, but not so dark that he couldn’t see Odessa’s hands already undoing the buckles of her armor, see her tongue slipping out to wet her lips tauntingly.

“If it involved your cock inside me, well yeah.” With her armor scattered on the floor at her feet, Odessa leaned into MacCready, her hands wrapping around his waist, her teeth working her bottom lip. “But if it involved Deacon’s cock you can gloss over the details.” Her eyes flitted downward and she couldn’t repress the upward pull of a smirk. “Or not, up to you.” 

“No, Deacon’s what ruined the whole thing, actually.” MacCready lifted a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, then let it linger against her face as he brought his lips close to hers once again. He hovered, waiting for her to close the distance, needing the validation that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“Hmmmm, sounds about right,” Odessa hummed, ignoring MacCready’s lips to nuzzle up under his chin and place a heated kiss just under his jawline. MacCready answered with a breathy groan, his fingers curling in her hair. “So… how did it start?” she continued between kisses and nips, her voice absolute silk as she pulled her shirt off her shoulders. MacCready wasn’t even sure when she had unbuttoned it, and he honestly didn’t care. Where he had been cocky just moments ago, he was suddenly a nervous wreck.

“Uhh… a lot like this, actually.” He swallowed, his hands moving from her face down to her hips without his conscious thought to do so. She responded to his touch, pressing her body closer and rolling her hips forward against his crotch. MacCready’s own hips came forward to meet hers, and Odessa moaned deep in her throat to feel the distinct hardness of his erection.

“What happened next?” she whispered. Her fingers were already at the front of her pants, working the button and zipper undone. She had it in her mind to play along with the retelling of MacCready’s hallucination, but she was hopelessly impatient.  

“Your pants...” he breathed. His tongue laved the warm flesh of her neck, one hand coming back up to her jaw to hold her close to his mouth. The other worked the clasp of her bra, and he grinned against her skin when he was able to undo it. He was desperate to be inside of her, but there was something undeniably and groin-meltingly  _ sexual _ in knowing that four layers of cloth was all that kept him from knowing her warmth.

“Try to keep up, Mac.” MacCready glanced down, and he couldn’t help the twitch of his cock when he saw her pants and underwear already in a crumple at her feet. If it weren’t for the fact that he hadn’t had a breath of Jet since Bunker Hill, he would swear he was stuck in another dream again. But this was as real as any day he’d ever lived. It was uncomfortably warm inside the empty warehouse, there was rubble under his feet and a salty breeze passing through the broken windows. Odessa’s skin was sticky with sweat, strands of her hair sticking to her face, and his fingers were inching down, down, past her belly and deep into the warm crevice between her thighs.

“Didn’t make it this far at Bunker Hill,” he joked, voice hoarse and nearly breathless. He dipped into her wetness with two fingers, and Odessa would have climbed into his arms to get closer to him if she could. The moan that she sung out echoed through the building, and MacCready hurriedly covered her mouth with his free hand. “Shhhh, shh-shh-shh! Careful, alright?” Odessa’s eyes were unfocused in her bliss, but she nodded. MacCready ran a rough thumb over her bottom lip as he pulled his hand away from her mouth, and Odessa worked to stifle the whimpers that begged to escape as MacCready continued driving her closer and closer to the orgasm that had been denied to her time and time again for the past two weeks. She was already dangerously close, then MacCready made a decision that in no way whatsoever helped.

He dropped down on his knees in front of her, fingers still working in and out, crooking in the right places and lingering at her opening just long enough to make her squirm before diving back in. His tongue swept up between her lips until it found the little bump of her clit, and Odessa’s legs went shaky with the sensation. She was forced to clasp her hand over own mouth to stifle the sweet little noises she could no longer control as MacCready’s tongue licked a soft, steady rhythm that drove her straight to the edge. She felt the tell-tale warmth of her coming orgasm, and the fingers of her free hand curled tightly in MacCready’s hair as she came undone under his touch. Odessa’s hand left her mouth to grip at a piece of the wooden framing of the wall behind her, her breathing reduced to quiet pants as she rode out the resounding shockwaves until MacCready finally pulled away with a lopsidedly pleased grin.

“Good?” he asked with a little chuckle.

“Good,” Odessa gasped dryly.

“Oh, I dunno. I’d say that was more’n good,” came a drawled, raspy voice at the other side of the building. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They DID get interrupted! But by who? We'll find out in the next chapter! Sorry, this one was a tad on the short side and VERY belated. I haven't had as much free time lately to write :/  
> Thank you for reading! As always, you can find me on Tumblr @mentats-ghoul-herself <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone following this pair of dorks and following me on Tumblr and encouraging this nonsense. This story is a much bigger undertaking than Grognak Redefined, so chapter count and rating will be updated as I go. Love you all!


End file.
